


horizons

by orphan_account



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Kiss, not a happy ending nor a fix-it fic, referenced / implied character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 19:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9087277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In his kiss, she tastes hope.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't a happy fic, nor is it a fix-it fic. and while i am incredibly glad that there was no romance, i have such a soft spot for jyn & cassian and everything that they could have been.  
> 
> 
> this is unbeta'd and hastily written, i apologize for any mistakes.

They're going to die. She'd be a fool to think otherwise. Rebellions are built on hope, yes, but hope can only stretch so far. Hope stretches as far as the horizon, but the horizon is closing in. His hands are trembling – or, maybe those are _her_ hands – as they watch the sky light up, as the ground crumbles, as their world ends. Eyes water, but tears don't fall – _don't weep for what doesn't weep for you –_ and she turns to him, sees that his own eyes are glassy, reflecting the surface of the water, reflecting the waves as the tide rolls in, and brings with it destruction. He's the most beautiful thing that she's ever seen, and if she has to die, well, there are worse ways to go.

She should have kissed him in the elevator, on the way here. She should have kissed him on the tower, before they ran. Maybe she should have kissed him even after she knew he'd planned to kill her father, just so she could feel something, could know who he was, what they could be.

It's not too late, she knows, but she _also_ knows that it was _already_ too late from the moment they had been put together. Time is a cruel thing: be careful not to waste it, you never know when you'll run out.

“Jyn.” he says her name like it's holy, like it's something to be treasured.

There's still time. Not much, but she doesn't need long. The hand not clutching his comes up, and one calloused finger touches to his lips. “Don't talk.” she says, and she's leaning in, capturing his lips in a kiss. Her heart pounds in her chest, she can feel the blood pulsing in her ears, and she's thankful that she's able to spend these final few moments with him; with this man who she has known such a short time, but is already the home she wasn't aware that she has been seeking for so long.

His hands are on her, gripping at the material of her vest, clutching to her like she's his lifeline, like holding her will hold him and the entire planet together – she wishes desperately that could be the case. Their lips don't fit together perfectly - too dry, too chapped, too split and bloody – but perfection takes time, it takes practice. She's never concerned herself too much with perfection, anyway.

In his kiss, she tastes _hope_. She tastes salt, but she's uncertain if the tears that have finally fallen are hers or his. She tastes the rebellion. She tastes the end of the war. His tongue hits a split in her lip, and in that moment, she tastes everything that they could have been, the lives that they could have had if only they could have more time.

A sob catches in her throat, but she swallows it, presses her mouth more surely against his own. The tide is closing in, bringing with it choppy waves and diminishing hope. She parts from him, and their eyes lock. She doesn't say she loves him, because she doesn't. But she knows that she _could_.

He doesn't say that he loves her. But he knows that he _would_.

She rises, shaky on her legs, and he stands with her. Their arms are around each other in an instant, and the tears flow freely now as she clings to him, clings to her _home_.

They're going to die. Of that, she's never been more aware. But though the Empire is taking their lives, they can't take their hope.

Hope stretches as far as the horizon – and with the destruction, the horizon has become endless.

 

 


End file.
